Mrs. ABIGAIL and the DUMB WAITER.

FABLE XV.

With frowning brow and aspect low'ring,
As Abigail one day was scow'ring,
From chair to chair she past along,
Without soliloquy or song;5Content, in humdrum mood, t'adjust
Her matters to disperse the dust. —
Thus plodded on the sullen fair,
'Till a Dumb-Waiter claim'd her care;
She then in rage, with shrill salute,10 Bespoke the inoffensive mute: —
"Thou stupid tool of vapourish asses,
With thy brown shelves for pots and glasses;
Thou foreign whirligigg, for whom
US honest folks must quit the room;15And, like young misses at a christ'ning,
Are forc'd to be content with list'ning;
Tho' thou'rt a fav'rite of my masters,
I'll set thee gadding on thy castors. This said — with many a rough attack,20 She scrubb'd him 'till she made him crack;
Insulted stronger still and stronger,
The poor dumb thing, could hold no longer. —
"Thou drab, born mops and brooms to dandle,
Thou haberdasher of small scandal,25Factor of family abuse,
Retailer of domestic news;
My lord, as soon as I appear,
Confines thee in thy proper sphere;
Or else, at ev'ry place of call,30 The chandler's shop, or cobler's stall,
Or ale-house, where (for petty tales,
Gin, beer, and ale are constant vails)
Each word at table that was spoke,
Wou'd soon become the public joke,35And chearful innocent converse,
To scandal warp'd — or something worse. —
Whene'er my master I attend,
Freely his mind he can unbend; —
But when such praters fill my place,40 Then nothing should be said — but grace.